


A Dedication

by colorlessxjv



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-20
Updated: 2017-07-25
Packaged: 2018-12-04 13:54:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11556582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/colorlessxjv/pseuds/colorlessxjv
Summary: When Betty Cooper reflects on her high school years, "The One that Got Away", was never going to be Archie Andrews.





	1. Chapter 1

She hadn't spoken to him in a while.

In fact, the last time she had seen him was two Christmases ago, when she was home visiting her family and they had run into each other at Pop's. He was sitting in his regular booth, laptop open and black coffee in front of him like old times and for a moment she thought she had imagined him. But they had made brief eye contact and he smiled at her hesitantly, almost shyly.

He had looked the same as he did in high school, minus the grey knit beanie that had perpetually graced his head during those years. His eyes are still the piercing blue she remembers, his hair still floppy and uncontrollable, and he's still clad in a familiar wardrobe of worn flannel and jeans.

She had returned his shy smile with a wide one, and walked over to his booth, plopping down across from him as if two years hadn't passed since they were last in Riverdale. They chatted and joked as if two years hadn't passed since they were last in Pop's diner at this very booth where he had kissed the fingermarks etched into her palms and where he had kissed her for the last time, tears on both of their faces, before they broke up to go their separate ways.

"Well well well...look who it is. What is the illustrious Jughead Jones up to these days?" she asks him, playfully stealing a french fry when she reaches the booth.

He chuckles lightly, closing his old Macbook. "Not much, as it seems," he said. "Trying to keep my head above water in my classes, I guess."

He had ended up scoring a scholarship to NYU, majoring in creative writing, and she was living out in California, ending up at UC Berkeley for English (with a minor in Political Science) and her heart set on investigative journalism.

She loved Berkeley; the people were colorful, open-minded, and shone with the type of warm personalities that only California could cultivate. She loved the distance it provided her from Riverdale, and had made it her goal to shed the last vestiges of her perfect Betty Cooper persona (although parts of it still remain, and she suspects will always be a part of her). Berkeley is where she found her voice, where she could stand on her own two feet without the shadow of Alice Cooper looming over her.

She had enjoyed herself in college. She had made a small but significant group of close friends at Cal, and still maintained her friendship with Veronica Lodge, who had followed her high school sweetheart to Northwestern. Betty sheds her insecurity, her anxiety, and her pink sweaters when she starts college. She decides to try new things, push herself out of her comfort zone, and begins to stop apologizing for being herself. She even tries weed, once, but after sputtering for about 10 minutes straight and then immediately falling asleep, decides it's not for her.

She dates here and there, even has her share of one-night stands, but every so often, on a lonely night, her thoughts would drift to her high school romance. She'd always wondered what he was up to, if he was well, and sometimes, she wondered if he thought of her too.

Her memories of their relationship are only ever good ones. "It was the real deal," she thinks to herself. And when it ended, it didn't end badly. They had agreed mutually that the distance was an obstacle that their young love couldn't withstand, choosing instead to end things before they could hate each other. She wonders about what could have happened if they had just thrown logic out the window and just gone for it, but always stops herself before that thought goes too far. She doesn't pine for him, because she's not that girl and he's not that guy anymore, but the memory of him sneaks into her thoughts when she least expects it, and then her thoughts are full of things that don't exist anymore.

So when she sees him again, they sit in that booth for what felt like hours, catching up and reminiscing on old times (while carefully sidestepping the fact that they had dated and fell apart). He was still working on the novel he had been writing since high school.

"It has to be perfect, Betty," he insists, "It's my freshman attempt at a real piece of literature."  
She snorts, her tone sarcastic. "Still trying to write the next great American novel, Jug?"  
At this, he looks affronted, although his eyes twinkle with mirth. "Maybe. Who knows? I could be the next Kerouac. You could be begging me for my autograph one day."  
At this, she beams at him. "Well, I'd better be the first one to read it. Promise me you'll send me an advance copy."  
He offers a small smile back at her, his eyes soft. "Of course, Betty."

When they finally said their goodbyes that night, he had squeezed her in a crushing hug. Her heart had raced so fast she swore it could have thumped right out of her chest. It's funny- at Cal she's a confident new person, but in front of Jughead, she's back to being the Betty Cooper she's always been.

"I hope we talk soon Betts," he says, as he holds her close to him. She swallows thickly at his closeness, and how intimately he whispered in her ear, and lets out a, "Me too, Juggy," her voice catching embarrassingly in her throat. And when she made it home that night to her parent's house, she couldn't help but feel a swell of pride at how mature the interaction had been; she hadn't fallen apart at seeing her ex-boyfriend, and had actually had a good time catching up with him. Still, she couldn't fall asleep that night, laying in her childhood bed, thoughts racing, thinking about the past.

That had been two years ago. Since then, they hadn't seen each other again, but had exchanged the odd text message or Facebook chat.

She had graduated Cal with honors, of course, and, without hesitation, accepted admission to NYU's Graduate School for Journalism. She had seen the pictures of his graduation on Facebook, and had spent an embarrassingly long time examining a particularly flattering picture of him; he's smiling widely, clad in purple NYU robes, and embracing his father. In her empty apartment in New York, surrounded by boxes she had yet to unpack, she wonders when she will see him again. He knows she's in New York now, but she's too hesitant, too scared of dismissal to reach out to him first.

He hadn't been at Veronica and Archie's engagement party last week, citing work, but had texted Betty to let her know he wishes he could have been there. She had brushed off the sinking feeling of disappointment then, texting him back that she wishes he could have been there too.

When Archie kisses Veronica and everyone cheers, lifting up their champagne glasses to the happy couple, Cheryl glances at Betty and asks her if she feels weird at all, seeing her old childhood crush getting married. Betty shrugs and replies, "I'm just happy that he's happy" and means it. She had been over him for ages, and the thought of her pining after him for so long makes her cringe. Besides, if she was going to come up with a guy to label "The One that Got Away", it certainly wasn't going to be Archie Andrews.

Which is why she is so surprised when she comes home one day to a package at her doorstep, a card on top reading "Betty" in Jughead's slanted scrawl.

She reads the card first.

Hey Betty,

If you haven't guessed, it's Jug. I hope you don't mind I got your new mailing address from Archie- welcome to New York! I'm sorry I couldn't see you into town, but I've been in Riverdale. Once you open the box, maybe you'll understand why. I'll see you around.

Jughead

PS- I always keep my promises.

Betty tears open the package excitedly, letting out a laugh as she realizes what it is- his first book, THE RIVER'S EDGE by J. Jones III. Her happiness turns into that familiar pulling in her chest when she opens the book to the cover page.

"Dedicated to BC, to whom I owe everything."

****************

As it turns out, Jughead's first book isn't just about Jason Blossom's murder, although the murder is part of it. His book is about the loss of innocence, about growing up and feeling the rose-tinted shades of childhood lift for the first time to reveal the real world's harsh and ugly underbelly. His book is about the loss of first love and how that love shapes him.

When Betty finishes reading, she feels the tears on her cheeks before she realizes she's crying. She wants to call him and confess to him that she loves it, that she's been thinking about him all these years, and that she finally realizes he's been thinking of her, too. She wants to tell him things that she's not sure she's fully realized yet, but she doesn't, because she's not sure that's what he wants to hear, and she's not sure what she wants his response to be.

It takes another two weeks before she builds up the courage to text him, but of course, it takes a bit of prodding from Veronica for her to do so.

Veronica had invited her to a new restaurant in Nolita for dinner, and when Betty arrives, hair sticking to her forehead from the humid summer air, Veronica asks her to be her maid of honor.

"Veronica," Betty reaches across the smooth marble tabletop to clasp Veronica's hand in her own, "you're my best friend. Of course I'll be your maid of honor."

Veronica claps her hands together in satisfaction and signals to a nearby waiter, "This calls for a celebration. Excuse me? I'd like a bottle of your best champagne."

Later, as they're stumbling around the Lower East Side after bar-hopping all night, Veronica slings an arm around Betty's shoulders.

"Hey Betty," Veronica drawls slowly, "have you talked to Jughead recently?"

Betty can feel her face flushing at his name, but chalks it up to the alcohol and the summer air. "No, I haven't. But I've been meaning to," she replies, hoping her response sounds breezy and casual.

Veronica stares at her for a beat too long and Betty can feel herself growing uncomfortable.

"I think Archie might ask him to be best man."

Betty lets out a breath she didn't realize she was holding. "I suppose I should reach out to him soon. He sent me an advance copy of his book and I haven't thanked him yet."

"He did?" Veronica's stride falters a bit, her tone a touch incredulous. "I didn't realize you guys were still close."

Betty shrugs, hoping her voice doesn't betray how unsure she is about the whole thing. "I mean, we talk here and there. I made him promise to send me a copy. Nothing serious."

"That's sweet of him to do. You should definitely reconnect, if you know what I mean." Veronica arches an eyebrow at her, her voice heavy with implication.

Betty rolls her eyes but says nothing more.

By the time Betty finally texts him, his book has been published. It's a major hit, and Veronica tells Betty that The River's Edge might make the NY Times Bestsellers List.

"According to some of daddy's friends, that is," Veronica mentions while they're getting pedicures.

Betty decides to text him that night. "Congratulations on the book," she types. Feeling stupid, she adds, "I really loved it." She presses send before she loses her courage.

His response back is almost immediate. "Did you really?" and before she can type something back, he sends, "I'm glad you liked it. I didn't know how you would feel about it."

He writes, "do you want to meet up for coffee sometime?" and she writes back "yes".

 

They meet a couple days later at a coffee shop near his apartment. He's standing outside, looking for her when she approaches, and when he sees her, he smirks. She's a mess, she thinks, with her curly hair piled up in a bun off of her neck, and while she wore her prettiest summer dress (a floaty little thing with small buttons up the front), she's pretty sure there's a sweat stain across her back.

"Of course you live in Brooklyn," she huffs; the subway ride from her apartment in the Lower East Side was less than pleasant.

He can only grin at her, and even though she's sweaty and annoyed (she is determined to write a full piece on manspreading on the L train), she grins back and takes him into a hug.

"It's good to see you, Jug."

"Likewise, Cooper," he says, as he pulls away from her.

She orders a latte and he orders black coffee and they sit and chat about Veronica and Archie's upcoming nuptials, the launch of his book, her upcoming class schedule, and how she's been adjusting to her move. She likes this, she thinks, this easy conversation. His hair flops into his eyes when he gets excited about something, and she refrains herself from brushing her fingers through his hair, from touching him at all.

He tells her about FP and how he's living in Astoria now, maintaining a steady job, sober and dating someone new, someone good for him. He tells her about Jellybean and how she's applying for colleges now, and gives her a pointed look when he tells her that JB's top choice is UC Berkeley. He tells her about how crazy the book's success is, and stumbles over his words when he tells her that the top question he gets from readers is who 'BC' is. He tells her that the new book he's working on is inspired by his father, but when she asks for more details, he gives her a mischievous little smile and tells her she'll have to wait for her advance copy to find out. When the afternoon extends into evening, he invites her to dinner and they go to his favorite Italian place in the city.

The place is small and reasonably priced, so she splurges and buys a bottle of red for the table. Her knees knock against his in the small curved booth they're seated in and when he reaches for the wine bottle to pour a second glass for her, he rests a hand on her knee, his thumb rubbing circles on her kneecap, and leaves it there until they get up to leave.

There's electricity in the summer air as they stroll through the city. At some point she curls her fingers into his, and they're walking hand-in-hand. She doesn't hesitate when he invites her upstairs to his place and when they finally make it up to his apartment, she musters up all of the confidence she gained in California and presses her lips firmly to his.

To her relief, he kisses her back, almost as fervently, and when they part to take a breath, she whispers, "I thought about you, you know. When I was in California. I thought about this."

He leans back slightly, to take her in. She knows what she must look like right now; her hair had finally fallen victim to the humidity, her makeup probably smudged, lipstick rubbed off. But he smiles at her, and brushes a frizzy curl of hair behind her ear, his fingers lingering on her chin.

When he responds, his eyes are dark and focused on her lips. "I thought about this too. I thought about what it would be like when I finally got to see you again. It's different, though, from what I had originally imagined."

She arches an eyebrow at this. "How so?"

He makes eye contact with her now, stormy blue meeting her green. "It's better."

As he leans in to kiss her again, Betty can't help but agree.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She's different, he thinks.

She's different, he thinks.

 

Sometimes he feels like he's dating a different person. She's brasher, more likely to offer up her opinion these days, and less willing to back down at the first sign of confrontation. She's stopped wearing her ponytail, letting her hair loose around her shoulders most days, and he doesn't think he's seen her wear a single cardigan since they rekindled their relationship. She is less concerned with Alice Cooper's opinion and when her mother calls her one night when she's over at his place, she doesn't shake with anger or anxiety or sadness afterwards. The scars on her palms have healed, and he notices that she doesn't fist her hands as often as she used to.

 

He doesn't dislike the change, but he takes a second to mourn the death of Betty Cooper as he knew her.

 

Parts of the girl he remembers remain, though. She's still selfless to a fault; when he gets sick with the flu, she skips a lecture to make him soup and takes the long subway ride over to his apartment to nurse him back to health. She still detests the word 'perfect'.When she has her first project due, and he can tell she's stressed by her tense shoulders, she smiles and tells him that things are fine, even though they are decidedly not. She still bakes when she feels overwhelmed (not that he's complaining) and she's still the first to offer help in any way, even if her time is stretched thin, even if she's dead on her feet. It's these parts of her that make her distinctly  _Betty Cooper_.

 

It's been three months since they had started dating again, and he's still learning these new parts of her. The weather was starting to chill, the leaves beginning to change color, and it was this point at which Jughead's insecurities began to get the best of him.

 

A part of him, the more rational side of him, knows that his pessimistic nature arises from years and years of growing up in the Southside, from years and years of getting his hopes dashed. But the emotional side of him, the side that is drowning out any sort of reason in his head, is asking what exactly she's getting from being with him. 

 

He would be lying if he said that these thoughts didn't pervade his mind during the course of their high school romance, but back then he could come up with an answer. Betty back then had a dark side; her anxiety took her into dark places and the light would fade from her eyes, even as she continued to smile. Back then, Jughead would be the one to bring her back. 

 

She's less of this girl now, he thinks. Even at the pinnacle of her most busy weeks, she pulls  _herself_ from the edge of darkness. She will close her eyes, breathe through her nose, and when she is done with her meditation, she stretches out her fingers and never lets the light leave her eyes. Her fingernails never pierce her palms. He's happy for her. She's found her peace, and he, more than anything, had always wanted this for her. But Jughead begins a silent countdown to when she'll realize that she doesn't need him anymore, when she'll pack up her bags and leave him.

 

When winter comes, he begins to number his days. When he kisses her, he imagines that it'll be the last time. When he makes love to her, he tries to catalog the feeling of her body against his, the salt of her skin when he presses his lips to her and her quiet moans and breathy sighs. 

 

Despite his misgivings, he gives her a key to his apartment, and now she's over at his place more often than her own. Her curly blond hairs have woven their way in his hairbrush and her pink toothbrush cohabits the cup where his lives. She'll cook him dinner without announcing it, and he'll return from work and  _just pretend_ that this is the way that it's all going to turn out. 

 

It's one of these nights when he comes home, and she's eating Chinese takeout in her underwear, watching TV, her long pale legs kicked up on the coffee table, that he realizes it's too late. He realizes that he's fallen in love with her all over again. 

 

"Jug? Hey, Jug are you okay?"

 

Her voice pulls him out of his reverie, and he gives her an apologetic smile. "Sorry, Betts. My mind was just somewhere else. What were you saying?"

 

She throws him a suspicious glance before saying, "I was telling you my friend from Cal is coming to New York to visit her girlfriend's family. Toni? I told you about her."

 

He wracks his brain for a second before vaguely remembering a picture on Betty's Instagram of her with a purple haired black girl at graduation. "Yeah, I think I know who you're talking about."

 

"I promised her we would meet her for lunch this weekend," Betty says, absently playing with his hair, "I've told her a lot about you..." Betty's voice drifts off as her eyes meet his. 

 

He smirks, "Only good things I hope."

 

Betty rolls her eyes. "Honestly, I'm worried you guys might get along  _too_ well."

 

He doubts that.

 

*********************************************

 

Jughead finds himself walking hand-in-hand with Betty through East Village on Saturday afternoon. The air has chilled considerably, and Betty's face is half wrapped in a soft grey cashmere scarf, her nose and cheeks pink from the cold. Jughead's wearing his beanie again, tucked over his ears, as the frigid wind seeps into his winter coat. 

 

They meet Toni at a Chinese hot pot restaurant, the steam instantly blasting his face with warmth and he feels the prickles underneath his skin as he thaws. Toni carries herself with the casual confidence of someone who was born to be an extrovert. She's wearing a soft and worn flannel shirt underneath a dark denim jacket, with ripped baggy jeans and Doc Martens, and a small gold septum ring peeks out through her nostrils. Jughead thinks to himself that she's possibly the  _coolest_  girl he's ever seen. She's much more relaxed than Betty is, but her energy is infectious enough to even reach Jughead, and he finds himself laughing along with Betty at Toni's stories of her recent exploits, of attending protests in San Francisco while studying for the LSAT at her parents' home in San Jose. 

 

He likes Toni, he thinks. Firstly, she has great taste in music and movies, he learns, so the conversation between them flows freely. She's intelligent and opinionated, and she's sharp and sarcastic enough to go head to head with him. She has a bright personality that shines upon everyone she talks to, and most of all, she makes Betty shine. He doesn't think he's seen Betty laugh so candidly, so uninhibited, for quite some time, and it is with a pang of sadness that he realizes it's yet another thing she doesn't need him for. 

 

When Betty leaves to go to the restroom, Toni quirks an eyebrow at Jughead. 

 

"She's told me a lot about you," Toni says, her voice lowering to a conspiratorial tone. 

 

His gaze levels with her. "I'm sure she has," he says.

 

She's studying him now, with interest and a bit of a challenge in her eyes. "Do you love her?"

 

At this, his mouth dries. Has he been that obvious? "Yeah," he admits, "I do."

 

Toni's gaze warms and she smiles at him. "You know she loves you. She probably has, all this time." Her hands clasp over his, enveloping him with comfort, assuaging the feeling that if he blinks, all of this will disappear.

 

Betty returns, and they make their moves to say goodbye. Toni wraps both of them in tight hugs and they wish her happy holidays. And when Betty and Jughead are heading back to his apartment in Brooklyn, he holds her hand on the subway ride back. She squeezes his hand, once, then four times, then three. 1, 4, 3. 

 

He smiles at her but she's already grinning so broadly that he starts laughing. She kisses him on the cheek and tucks her face into the space between his ear and shoulder, burrowing into his neck. He thinks she whispers an "I love you" into his skin, and he lets the words seep into him like an ointment.

 

Back at his apartment, he undresses her.

 

He slowly unwraps her from her winter layers, peppering her with soft kisses as each layer is shed. She sighs happily, wrapping her arms around him when she's truly and completely naked. 

 

"I love you," she says finally. 

 

"I love you too," he says, and it's the purest truth he's ever told. "I love you so much, Betty Cooper." 

 

He can feel hot tears at his eyes, and he knows it's not much longer until the dam holding in his emotions finally breaks. So he lets it.

 

"Sometimes I'm afraid that you don't need me anymore. You're this strong, wonderful person and you've grown up so much and sometimes it feels like....it feels like I'm the same Jughead Jones. I'm the same guy who will get to have you for just a moment, before you've realized you've outgrown me." 

 

Betty pulls back from their embrace, looking like she's been slapped.

 

"Jughead...Jug...no...." she says, her brows knitting together. "I  _do_  need you. I've always needed you."

 

He lets out a huff of breath, embarrassed. "I know, it's stupid. I can't help it..."

 

Her hands go to his face and she forces his gaze on her face. "Jughead, look at me," she says, as her eyes focus on his, "I'm still the same person. I've learned to deal with my issues all these years because...I can't let you be  _responsible_  for me or my problems. In high school I was a fucking wreck--- I wasn't ready to be with anyone else, much less be comfortable with myself." Her eyes are glassy, searching frantically in his, looking for his understanding. "I wasn't ready," she says, finally, "but now I am. I'm ready to love without reservations. And I'm sure about this love. I'm sure about what I want. I'm sure about  _us_."

 

And then he finally gets it. 

 

He kisses her, his lips tasting the salt of her tears as they finally fall. Her fingers weave into his hair and his beanie falls to the floor as she pulls him closer and closer until he can hardly tell where he starts and she begins. He feels all the walls he had put in place begin to crumble, and he's naked, fully vulnerable for the first time in a long time, and he's ready to finally give her everything, every part of him. 

 

She pulls him onto the bed, arms circling around him, letting his body stretch over hers. With her arms tight around him, she pleads, her voice breathy in his ear, "Don't leave me". 

 

 _I won't_ , he promises silently.  _I won't let you go again_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your lovely comments. I was ruminating on adding this chapter for a while, because I don't really have a set storyline in place to make this a fully fleshed out multi-chaptered fic, so I hope a couple of short and sweet perspectives will do. I'm still learning how to get into the writing thing, so please comment - constructive criticism is always welcome and I love reading everyone's ideas on where I could take this/ what I could write next. 
> 
> Also, I'm on tumblr now: colorlessxjv.tumblr.com.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my very first fanfic- just a little oneshot; I had this idea in my head for a while, thinking about how, when people reconcile, they come together again as different people who've grown and had new experiences and interests. I've also really liked the idea of someone like Betty Cooper coming into her own at somewhere as hippie-dippie and liberal as UC Berkeley. I may expand upon this story if there's interest. I hope you enjoyed, and (constructive) criticism is always welcome- I'm always looking to improve.


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